Kaveri's hand on her shoulder woke her fully. “It's nearly moonrise. We're going to the roof, maybe not for long, but we're all tired and need all we can get. Are you coming?”

Narcissa hesitated, then shook her head. “Later. I don't want to leave her alone. Just in case...”

“All right. I'll come sit with her so you can have a chance, once I'm at full strength, and you can take as long as you need in the moonlight.”

Narcissa nodded, though she doubted that even the wonder of Lirit's light could wash away her fear right now, or make being away more tolerable.

Once Kaveri left, she got up and checked on Lysandra again herself. Still breathing, shallowly but steadily. Heart still beating, slowly and less strongly than she'd have liked, but it was for the most part regular. Her skin felt a trifle cool and clammy, though. Around the bandage on her abdomen, the skin was slightly warm and dry and tight, but no red streaks, no foul scents to suggest infection. Considering how close she'd come to dying, it was, well, perhaps not promising, but not discouraging, either. She pulled the couch closer, so she could take Lysandra's limp hand in hers, close enough to sing her lullabies, to remind her of happy memories, anything that came to mind.

“Please wake up. Don't force me to do something I don't know whether you want me to do. Please don't die.”

Kaveri came back to tell her that Lirit was high in the sky, and promised to stay with Lysandra and to send Mirren immediately to fetch her at the slightest sign of change.

“Madoc needs to rest for a while, he hasn’t stopped at all, but Tyrel has a full moon keeping him awake...?”

Narcissa shook her head. “Alone is fine. I doubt there's any current threat.”

“I think they've done a very thorough job of rounding up the people responsible, so I agree, but stay near the stairs, please? Any threat, get back inside, or change and run.”

“I will.”

The hospital roof would, in time, be a pleasant private garden for patients and their loved ones to seek solitude and solace—and a source for fresh herbs as well. Part of it would be a shrine to Neaira and Makarios and the other gods associated with healing, their priests sharing the responsibilities of it, allowing prayers and offerings to be made for the sake of loved ones without leaving the premises. Some of the great pots were already in place, a few with plants in them, and there was a scattering of mismatched furniture, but there was much more work to do.

Lirit's light, like cool clean water, washed away the fatigue, but could do nothing for the gnawing fear.

“Lirit,” she whispered. “How can you and your sisters allow them to do these things? You know who they are and what they're doing, but you aren't stopping them. Is this all some sort of game to you? Us against them, and you give us a few advantages to even out the odds and make it more interesting to watch?”

Wise daughter, pain clouds your wisdom.

Words, not exactly a voice, but the violet moonlight wrapped around her in a bright aura, and there was no mistaking that presence. She'd heard it that first night, advising her to trust Kaveri and her friends.

“How can I think anything else from what I've seen? Before I was of any interest to you, they tried over and over to kill me! They've killed countless people and condemned even more to misery and despair!”

But you have always been of interest to us.

Narcissa paused. “What?”

What happens under our light, we see. We see humans more truly themselves than the sun ever does. We see humans committing acts they would not do by day. We see things that make us weep. We see things that give us hope and delight. We saw you, years ago, on the roof in the moonlight, telling your sister what you hoped one day to do, and we've watched you do so. We see your sister dance passion and joy despite the pain always within her. We see you out at night, or opening your doors, to help those who could not pay for a physician or feared to see one lest they be judged. We know you both well, wise daughter. We did not expect our children to cross your paths.

Narcissa considered that briefly, but right now, it felt largely irrelevant. “Fine, you knew us. How does that make it better that you let them keep trying to kill me? That you all keep letting them do terrible things with no consequences?”

What they do grieves us deeply. We did not intend this when we created our first children. But they are our children regardless, as much as you are. What runs in your veins is a part of my own substance. We can love our children and hate what they do. Meyar mourns for her son the bear, though she bears Kieran no ill will and would have mourned had the bear killed you. Sahen mourns for her daughter the eagle the same way. If you and your birth-brother came into conflict, with one of you acting in ways that appalled your birth-parents, would you ask them to kill their own child? And as the one still alive afterwards, would you ever again feel safe and certain that you would see the next day, that it would not be your turn to displease them next?

“I... suppose not. But you keep accepting more! Some of the ones from the attack in my house had only been approached within the past few years! Brykhon can't have been long ago!”

When they are initiated, in a dark and violent rite that we have never demanded and would rather never see again, if we do not choose them, they are killed, so that the secret remains a secret. Talir stopped accepting new children from any line save Neoma's when Neoma fled. She feels that we are not truly saving them, only prolonging their existence with little benefit to them. Our opinions differ, but some of us are coming to agree. It is hard to let someone die when you believe they have much to offer the world and that they might have the strength to escape as Neoma did. So, we have made changes to Neoma's bloodline, things the others know nothing of and cannot match. We have broken rules several times. Someday that may come back to haunt us, but when they caught up with Neoma, there was so much pain, so much grief, hers and the earthborn's and his spirit-creatures' and Kieran's and our own, we could not refuse what the earthborn asked.

“That did Neoma a lot of good. Kieran hasn't seen her in over a human lifetime, and it certainly sounds like he's been looking!”

Neoma is safe. It took a very long time for us to convince Talir to stop holding Neoma to her like a wolf-bitch curled around a single injured pup. She returned Neoma very far away, where they could never find her again, and after so long with Talir, many many moon cycles, her memories of her life are rather distant and dream-like. Talir regrets that, and placing her so far from Kieran. We will, when we can, set it right.

“Set it right. This is all fascinating and educational, but my sister may die because of that stag's kick—and his blood is yours! Most of my household, who are my personal responsibility, are injured because of an attack on me, mostly by that same stag. What makes that right? They're your children and you love them. Fine. When we were small, if we abused our toys, we lost them. If we wouldn't cooperate and play nicely, we were forbidden to play with others. If we broke the rules, we were punished in accordance with what rule we broke and whether there were extenuating circumstances. That didn't mean that our parents loved us less. It meant they wanted us to grow up aware that our actions had consequences and that we were accountable for everything we did and what came of it. Refusing to heal them helped keep the fight from lasting so long that Lysandra and Thaleia and possibly others would likely have died. Thank you for that much. We have some of them in custody now, and Aithre's children are alert for others, but they're like a plague, it only takes one carrier for it to start all over again! The grandparents of my grandparents were chosen to replace the royal family of the day who had been abusing their power. My family have been raised ever since to be aware of the responsibility that comes with authority, and that it can be taken from us as readily as it was granted if we give our people reason. We've given our lives, over and over, in trying to make Enodia the most strong and free nation in all the world, healthy and educated and peaceful. If they're still lurking in the shadows, then I can't leave. I will never leave Enodia while any of them are still free here.”

There was no reply for a long time, so long she thought she might have angered Lirit, or that this whole impossible conversation had ended.

Let us think, wise daughter. I would not like for you feel chained. There is much good you could do outside of Enodia. For the time being, please trust that I love you and I want you to be happy, not in pain as you are now. I am no more pleased with what my son Yegor did than you are. For the time being, go back to your sister. You have a message waiting.

“A what?”

But there was nothing in the moonlight beyond the usual sense of love and support.

Lost in thought, she decided to heed advice and go back inside. She'd been away from Lysandra long enough anyway.

Kaveri, perched on the couch and softly singing unfamiliar songs, broke off when Narcissa came in, and greeted her with a smile. “Feel a little better?”

“Physically. Lirit is talkative.”

Kaveri's eyebrows rose. “Talkative? I don't believe she's ever said anything to me. She did tell you to trust us...”

“And warned me to roll off the couch just before the vulture struck. This was more like an actual conversation. I think they feel bad.”

“Well, they should! They've been allowing the other bloodline to get away with too much for too long. And now this? I don't care that they did help even the odds by not healing them, I certainly hope they do feel bad. This should never have gotten this far.” She sighed. “Of course, your expert moonblood bodyguards haven't really covered ourselves in glory by preventing it, either.”

“You've been in Enodia for such a short time, and you think you should have ferreted out all the people involved in a conspiracy dating back at least five generations?”

“Hm, it took us four years in Galimont and that was less than two dozen years old by the time we arrived. Still, you'd think we would have learned something. Or at least managed to keep you safe if it did happen. Between accidentally changing you and not noticing the net had been cut enough to let someone winged through and letting that stag do the damage he did, we've failed you badly.”

“No. We're still alive. So you haven't failed.”

“I wish I were as forgiving.” Kaveri stood up and moved away from the couch. “I'm guessing you'd like to be alone again. I'll be close, and I'll hear you if...” She stopped, eyebrows rising again.

Narcissa turned around, to see what Kaveri was watching behind her.

The same nurse who had checked on Lysandra before, and two others, and with them was Aithre's Oracle. She wore, as always, her saffron dress with its indigo serpent borders, and the coins dangling from a silver chain belt jingled faintly as she moved; like most women, in this heat, she'd forgone a mantle entirely, but did have a saffron veil over her loose mostly-silver hair. The thick-bodied arm-length snake that had been draped around her neck in the agora earlier that day was no longer present, but of course the blue-black serpent tattoos spiralling around her forearms remained.

“Stay, please,” Aithre's Oracle, the High Priest of her temple in Phleion, said to the nurses, before turning her attention to Narcissa. “I come with a private message and a gift. The message is from Neaira. She has been pleased and proud of your work in her name, and would have preferred to see it continue, but under the circumstances, she frees you of your oath to her, and what you do in the future is between you and your mother. Your vow not to marry is your own concern.” She came nearer, standing on the far side of Lysandra's bed, and her face turned grave. “My poor sister.” She laid a manicured hand on Lysandra's forehead, the other on her chest, and closed her eyes.

Narcissa's breath caught. Oh, surely not, this has only happened a handful of times in all of Enodia's history...

“By the grace of both Neaira and Makarios, who are as we speak receiving deeply sincere and emotional prayers and offerings all over the city. By the grace of Scyron whose gratitude you have both earned in the past by your defence of justice. By the grace of the five moons, who wish to make amends and want Neoma's children not to grieve. By the grace of Briseis who watches over the Diamantian bloodline. By the grace of Aithre, who loves you both very much. Be well.”

It felt to Narcissa like the entire world paused for the space of three of her own rapid heartbeats, as though they'd reached the end of the stanza in a poem and hadn't yet begun the next. And in that space, the next stanza was rewritten, no longer quite in continuity with the events in the last.

Lysandra took a deep breath, much deeper than the shallow ones since her injury, and then another. The Oracle smiled and let her hands fall.

After the third breath, Lysandra's eyes blinked open. Almost instantly, her forehead furrowed with confusion. It took her three tries, pausing to lick her lips after the second, before she could say, “Cissa?”

Narcissa dropped down onto the edge of the bed and caught her hand, aware of the tears streaking her cheeks but not caring. “I'm right here.”

“That was... ow. Worse than Agathon making me ride his stallion. But...”

“You're entirely healed,” the Oracle said gently, and leaned down to kiss her forehead. “The same blessing will ensure that the rest of your household recovers without complications, though I cannot promise no long-term effects. Miracles, after all, don't come by the dozen. If you ever feel you have nowhere to belong, you will always be welcome with us.”

“I... thank you?”

“We'll come soon,” Narcissa told the Oracle. “With a proper offering.”

The Oracle inclined her head. “If you'll excuse me? It has been a long and busy day. You have my personal thanks for declaring that Aithre's children have a gift which can be of benefit to all Enodia. You gave a number of people who greatly needed it a sense of pride and worth as well as public acknowledgement. It is, however, keeping my sisters and brothers and I busy.”

Narcissa nodded.

“I'm completely lost,” Lysandra said plaintively, as the Oracle left and the nurses executed a tactful and rapid retreat, probably to start telling people what they'd just seen—after all, that was the point of witnesses.

“Sorry,” Kaveri said, “but just to make sure...” She flipped back the sheet and drew her knife to slice through the wrapped bandages around Lysandra's torso with such brisk efficiency Lysandra barely had time to process what she was doing.

Dried blood remained, outlining the sharp edges of the stag's hooves and the incision made in the struggle to repair the damage, but the skin itself was unmarked.

“Just checking,” Kaveri said. “I'll, um, be nearby.” She ducked around the screens, and Narcissa heard multiple familiar voices immediately demanding verification.

Narcissa leaned down to hug Lysandra fiercely; her sister's arms wrapped around her in return, and while she might be bewildered, the strength in them was normal, and so was the temperature of her body, and the beat of her heart when Narcissa let her head rest against her chest for a moment.

“You were hurt so badly, I was so afraid you were going to die...”

“Did you...? But we're not in moonlight.”

“No. This was a lot of gods together. I might have, if you'd gotten any worse. I don't know. I didn't want to decide. But I didn't. It's been a very busy day, and you slept through it all.”

“Sorry.” She squirmed, and Narcissa let go, helping her sit up; absently, Lysandra gathered the sheet around her. “Maybe you can find me some clothes, and you can tell me what I missed?”